


ever onward to victory!

by sofutofu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Chronic Illness, Comedy, Drama, Eventual Relationships, Family Drama, Football | Soccer, Football | Soccer Player Eren Yeager, Football | Soccer Player Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Foster Care, Gen, Grisha being a dad, Mostly Gen, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shippy Gen, Terminal Illnesses, for a bit, i dont call it soccer, i worked hard, pls read this genfic, the gang gets to experience being normal kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofutofu/pseuds/sofutofu
Summary: Shiganshina is a quaint and unremarkable town near the city of Maria, Paradis. Its claim to fame is its cult football team: The Shiganshina Scouts. Once a symbol of identity and an economic powerhouse, today it dies a slow death: the players score less, the team hemorrhages money, and merchandise sales drop consistently.In the dreaded 24th Reiss Bank championship, Paradis' neighbor and rival country Marley's Eldian Titans visited the Shiganshina stadium and wreaked havoc. Ultras tore the deteriorating bleachers apart, five local players were injured, fans were beaten, and the Scouts lost one-to-seven. Doomed to the Second Division, the local team's coffin was sealed.Caught in the eye of the hurricane,  ten-year-old Eren Jaeger swore he'd bring back The Scouts’ former glory no matter what.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, implied
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pablo/gifts).



> so this is the short and cheesy prologue where the kids can be kids and they fall in love with footie. some worldbuilding here and some foreboding there ya kno..
> 
> ik this is a genfic so i aim to update weekly. if it does well, i'll update more often. anyway i worked rly hard.

Eren Jaeger was once a child. A hyperactive, turbulent, starry-eyed boy.

At age nine, he made it a habit to always leave for school an hour early – even on rainy days. Carla Jaeger encouraged this under the guise that his best friend Armin’s love for learning had finally rubbed off on him.

Instead, Eren would line up his and his accomplice’s backpacks as goal posts. Armin watched from the sidelines, always sure to keep his most valued books outside the tortured bag. Both of them loners, Eren challenged any other kid that passed them by to a penalty kick shootout. His fiery demeanor and loud voice earned him beatings more often than playmates and Armin also paid the price. After all, some bullies preferred quiet kids.

Mikasa, Eren’s foster sister, chose sleep over enabling his early-morning shenanigans. But when she noticed the bruises staining his skin, she snapped and told Carla the truth. Appalled, the woman took Eren’s only ball away and made Mikasa his bodyguard.

“You’re punished. You won’t leave anywhere without her and you’ll come here directly after school,” Carla scolded.

“I didn’t do anything! Go tell the other kids to stop hating me instead!”, Eren cried, pulling the tablecloth onto the floor and breaking the water-filled jug that sat atop. He ran downstairs, cussing her out through his teeth.

“Eren! You-,” Carla felt too weak to stand. “That thing will cost you your allowance for the rest of the year!” her voice cracked.

Mikasa gathered the shards, Carla interrupted her and whispered, “I’ll do it. Thanks Mika.” She gave the girl a tender, lovingly reciprocated hug. Though her body relaxed, her brows still ached from the worry that sulked between them.

Eren grumbled. _I’m not letting Mikasa in all day I hope she sleeps outside and on the floor and I hope mom catches her stealing dad’s chocolates and I hope- AGH! Who the heck locked this?!_ He rattled the doorknob as tears lined his eyes.

“Psst. Eren,” Grisha called, turning away from his laptop. He’d been sat there for hours and his posture was still impeccable.

“What?!” A drop of snot landed on the floor. Grisha winced.

“Don’t worry about your mother. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

Grisha Jaeger was the Shiganshina Scouts’ chief physician and, while Carla was a full-time mother, Eren was adamant about accompanying his dad to work as often as possible. At first, coach Keith Sadies turned a blind eye to the child in the clinic. Players with mild or no injuries pitied the nine-year-old, so they entertained him with dramatized recounts of ongoing and past matches. If Grisha was out, they gossiped about any player they felt like humiliating. Eren’s favourite stories concerned Levi, Paradis’ best player and the Scouts’ captain. When he caught news outlets and magazines praising him like a saint, Eren would giggle, knowing Levi was in fact a total diva.

The fairytales didn’t erase the worst of the clinic, though. Eren saw ruptured tendons, cranial fractures and torn tibias ripping though flesh – though he never turned away. The day Moses Braun was paralyzed by an away player, Sadies gave Grisha an ultimatum:

_“Either you keep your kid at home, or you sit him down on the bleachers like a normal fucking parent.”_

Dr. Jaeger conceded and apologized to Eren, promising him a first-row seat and all the cotton candy money could buy.

“Can Armin come too?” Eren pouted. Grisha shot Sadies a glance. The coach shrugged.

After the match, Grisha snuck him into the pitch.

Cleaning staff purged the stadium of body fluids and greasy crumbs – symptoms of a healthy audience. The sky was a prism of purple-blues and hot orange hues. The smell of beer and sweat collided with the autumn breeze that cut through the lingering warmth. Despite Shiganshina’s rush-hour smog, Eren swore purer air didn’t exist.

The field looked tight as a chess board on TV, but here the grass ran wide and engulfed him. He looked back at his father. Even he was minute.

“Eren, your mother’s probably making din-,” A shout. Eren raced towards the middle of the pitch. He stopped, left foot skidding through the grass, and kicked the dead ball the players left behind into the air. Lacking the heart to take his son’s joy, he sat down and watched him tire himself out.

Outside, Armin and Mikasa circled the stadium’s walls and pillars. Unable to start a conversation with the huffy girl, Armin read aloud the informative plaques that adorned the concrete.

“Did you know, the Shiganshina F.C was created by former members of the resistance after the Great War? The ‘wings of freedom’ on their shirts symbolize their desire to be free from the King and from the war,” he gazed upon vitrines with early medals, jerseys, trophies, and photos. Most carried their former owner’s name. Edmund Engel, Sammy Keller; he’d seen those before on street corners and buildings.

Mikasa spotted her brother. She ran. “Eren, Mr. Jaeger, Carla says you need to come home.”

“Crap,” Grisha eyed his wristwatch. “It’s just past dinnertime.”

“Why’d you have to come?” Eren whined. Mikasa pulled his ear.

“Eren, don’t be rude. Let’s go,” his father disciplined. “Hey Armin, join us for dinner!” he waved.

Armin explained that his grandpa wanted him home, that he had homework to finish and just couldn’t make it that night, thank you, Mr. Jaeger. Grisha struggled to understand his quiet mumbling and to keep a straight face in the meantime. Once they parted ways, he toured around the building for another hour, unraveling a new obsession.

In the kitchen, Carla denied her son and her husband a single crumb of food. To avoid another incident, liquids were also barred from the table.

“Hey, Mikasa needs to eat too, doesn’t she?,” Grisha reasoned.

“She’s already eaten. We had lamb stew,” she reassured him as Mikasa pitter-pattered downstairs. “I’ve had it with the two of you. Where’s your homework, Eren? Your school’s e-mailed me. You haven’t been keeping up. Do you want us to send you to Trost? Because you’ll be going all alone on the bus for two hours every day,” Carla tensed up. Eren huffed.

“Darling, I think-”

“This is your doing. You’re not taking him to work again,” her tired eyes begged for his co-operation.

Before the child could storm out, Grisha captured him. “Okay,” he nodded.

“Dad! You-” a firm hand muffled him. _Has this kid always been such a brat?_

“I won’t take him to work anymore. He won’t go anywhere without Mikasa and he’ll focus on his studies,” Grisha conceded. “But give him back his ball.” Carla didn’t nudge. He continued, “Eren, if you give us a good report card and you stop getting into trouble, I’ll take you to a big match as a reward.”

 _Positive feedback._ If it had a chance of working, she had no reason to resist. After all, her son wouldn’t get hurt anymore, or at least get hurt less. That alone gave her a much-needed drop of reassurance.

Downstairs, Mikasa celebrated with a tiny yes!

The child freed himself and sat down. “Mmkay..”

Carla re-heated the chilled, gelatinous stew and served it with bread. Both parents ate in silence as Eren recounted all the interesting facts Armin had told him.

_“Armin wants to be a.. A marine uhhh.. He wants to study the sea! He told me that some iguanas can swim and that the bottom of the ocean is so dark that fish don’t need eyes there.”_

Carla’s gaze turned hollow, and Grisha was left to face the mournful phantom that enveloped her. Without a word being spoken, he prepared for the worst.

To no one but Eren’s surprise, Mikasa’s presence was a blessing. Once he tired of whining, Eren found a tough contender in her – a perfect goalie and a lightning-fast scorer. Her talent was unquestionably superhuman considering the only football class she’d ever taken was Eren’s half-assed demonstration of how to do a knuckle-ball: a moment she’d play in her head over and over every night before bed.

Mikasa was a bully repellent. Since her first day, no one dared annoy her. Every so often, boys eager to prove themselves challenged her and Eren to golden goal matches that concluded in seconds and devastated their egos. When Eren got too jealous of the attention she was getting, she’d purposefully miss a ball or two, tormenting him worse than any failure could.

Armin began to join in as well. Regular blows to the head and aching toes paved his way. Eren was patient; in part because his friend’s failures boosted his own little victories. Plus, an extra player is always in demand. The blond’s tendency to sulk in self-pity did sour the atmosphere every so often, though.

The three became better players and better friends. Eren still quarreled with classmates, but Mikasa determined Mrs. Jaeger didn’t have to know _everything_. She’d never say, but she was afraid of losing the football too.

Although Armin was still visciously picked on, it happened less and it showed. He allowed himself to be a little louder, to speak before spoken to and ramble about biology for a little longer. He gave his friends headaches, but he also finally invited them to his house: a dusty, ancient cottage between the city and the middle of nowhere. His grandfather’s precious garden became a pitch and its magnolias were mercilessly unearthed. Although he complained to the Jaegers and made the children garden for an entire weekend, he never denied them entry or access to the TV and always had cheese and crackers ready before their arrival.


	2. yellow card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> family melodrama happens, they all cry, greesh gets sad.
> 
> i thought i'd reach the juice in this chapter but it would've been double as long and i wanted to update this week. so here's most of the way to the juice.

In March, the Jaeger family’s life was split into pieces. Seemingly overnight, Carla’s illness swallowed her whole and confined her to the hospital. In winter, it was a day or two in bed; a missed recital or PTA meeting. After her first emergency room stay, there was no going back. _“She’s stable.”_ meant ‘she’s not dying’ and _“When I get better..”_ was a galaxy far, far-away. Her graceful features dissolved down to a thin layer of flesh, just barely covering her bones. Her black hair dried out and fell in clumps; her voice could only be heard in a completely silent room. Plugged into machines half the time and unconscious for about a third of it, she nevertheless always mustered up energy for her family. 

To Mikasa, this grim landscape was familiar. Carla’s face was like that of her late mother’s, except a bit kinder and more present. She dreaded the day Child Protective Services would inevitably take her. Curse them, claiming to help kids from the underground yet only moving them around like pawns. It couldn’t last – the kids in the system warned her so. Loving foster families were one in a million, and even then something always stopped the court from green-lighting them for adoption. If a kid stood under a good star and landed people like the Jaegers, it was best to preserve a certain amount of distance. Her misfortune wouldn't surrender without a fight, however. She had to meet Eren Jaeger.

Beyond the irreverent, rude image he projected, Eren was a considerate person. If Mikasa was in a game with him, he would occasionally stop to make sure she was immersed and following closely. When other boys pushed her aside, Eren never cowered from being her accomplice in teaching them a lesson. She had heard stories of foster siblings being ruthless bullies, but he accepted her presence as if it were the course of nature. Such thoughts deepened her despair. She hid her luggage beneath the stairs, where she couldn’t see it, and prayed for the best. 

Dr. Jaeger got time off of work to cope Carla’s absence. At first, he comforted the children the only way he knew how: by coddling them. 

“ _ Dad, I want the Scouts’ jersey!”  _

"You got it."

“And a video-game!”

"Which one?"

"Mikasa, you want anything? Let’s get you new clothes. No- a new wardrobe."

Eren evolved into both the angriest and the most spoiled kid in school, dethroning Jean Kirstein from Class B. To his luck, it wouldn’t last. Carla always, god-knows-how, found out about everything, and she made her discontent clear.

“Can’t you see you’re hurting them instead of helping? Treat them like grown-ups. They’re smarter and stronger than you think,” she disciplined Grisha from across the hospital bed. He sat at the edge, looking guilty as a puppy yet cherishing her guidance. 

To allow her peace of mind, Dr. Jaeger worked hard to become a better parent. He got in touch with Mr. Arlert, who watched the kids when he had to be at the hospital for long hours. He encouraged Eren to keep working hard for those match tickets – no matter how masterfully his son tugged at his heartstrings. The time was ripe, though; the Reiss Bank Championship and the Eldia Cup were to happen together in the summer. For a laugh, Grisha would occasionally threaten to report Eren's misbehavior to the Scouts. ‘Practice makes perfect’ isn’t a golden rule, though. Grisha often went to great lengths to avoid cooking. On one particularly tough day, he dropped the evening's housework on the kids’ shoulders. 

Sprawled on his bed, he rationalized it, _I’m too burnt out. Plus,_ _the kids can_ _make ramen, right?_ He picked up a novel to lull him to sleep. 

“Dad. The microwave is exploding,” Eren‘s silhouette stated with disturbing candor. The light from the stairs traced the cleaver he held in his right hand as if he were a character from Friday the 13th.

“ Then turn it off! Quick!”

“Mikasa says its dangerous and won’t let me.”

Grisha sprinted to the disaster zone, where the microwave was a chimney and its every snap was a tick of the doomsday clock. He shut it off in a haste, praying a last-minute blast wouldn’t disfigure his face. As he opened the hatch, he glared back at Mikasa. She had made a pot of fluffy rice: that night’s sad main dish. 

The incident scrapped instant meals from the menu and forced Grisha to revive his cooking skills – mainly so that the kids wouldn’t lament Carla’s absence before him. He felt they were ungrateful, but nine-year-olds don’t have the means to help a grown man. Dr. Jaeger had not felt so tired since he was a resident doctor, except back then his younger body could withstand its obligations. To add to his misery, he was developing insomnia. For two, three hours after turning the lights off he would exhume his past shortcomings as a father one-by-one.

His worst grievance was Zeke: his semi-estranged son. He left him and his native Marley when Zeke was around Eren’s age after a devastating divorce. He could explain his failure to stay in touch with him in a million ways, but self-loathing always found its way back to him. He wondered how someone as judicious as Carla could bear with him – a man who never matured past university.

In the end, the family made it to June safely. Spring’s crisp breeze had long parted to make way for Summer’s swelter. Eren’s nostrils itched from the dry heat and pollution cocktail that permeated his skin. The school year’s fun passed him by in a second, while tedious classes dragged on for hours and the saddest days stayed and piled up on his back. That was okay, though, because that day, he brought home his best ever report card. Although he disdained academics and good grades were but a means to go see the Scouts, it felt like a grand achievement. Well – Armin also helped. Annoyingly so.

Armin’s strategy? No football until homework was done _correctly_. If it didn’t meet his standards, he would refuse to leave the table. Eren couldn't even pull him off by force. Given that he spent the night regularly, he was chained to Armin’s plan without a way out.

The blond had a lot to gain from helping Eren – aside from the joy of excelling at something his friend was incompetent at. Eren’s success meant the opportunity to go see the legendary Scouts: those blurry figures on his analog TV, so fast that only the sharpest narrators could unravel their moves. They could summon cacophonous cheers at will; they were endlessly spoken but never than spoken to. He ached to know if they were human at all, because if they were, then weak little Armin wasn’t all that different. 

Eren’s parents awaited him in room number one on the third floor of St. Fritz Hospital. As he reached the entrance, he thought his body would collapse. He crossed the lobby in a flash. The receptionist didn’t have to halt him; she knew when to sign him in and out. 

In the elevator, sandwiched between two peering nurses, his throat swelled up. He held his breath to stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t the report card. He knew he’d done his best; he just never got used to visiting his mother. At every visit, he repeated the process of accepting that the brittle figure on the bed and Carla were the same. 

_ Ding _ . The elevator stops. One step forward, left turn. Two steps. Room 1.  _ Knock, knock. _

“ Hi, Eren.” His weary father opened. 

Carla shifted to face her son, pushing her limbs’ strength. They locked eyes. Her face was ever so emaciated, but her eyes were familiar. They spoke – _Eren. Your grades._

“Here they are! I have ‘em! You’re gonna love this,” the child exclaimed, arm diving into his bag. 

He first passed them to his dad, who was dozing off on a plastic chair. Grisha yawned, adjusting his glasses, and scanned through. He nodded, features relaxing into a smile. 

“Congrats, son, they’re really good.” He looked up. “I think he’s earned those tickets, Carla.” The boy’s eyes lit up. 

“Let me see.” She pulled her hand out of the covers. Grisha delicately laid the report card on it. She took her sweet, annoying time reading through each and every line. 

“Ma! Do you like ‘em, are you proud?”

“What’s this? Why a B-minus?”

“Oh, that? It’s art. It doesn’t matter”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not a real subject,” he rebuked, tensing up.

“Of course it’s real. Could Armin not help you with that one?”

“But look! A-plus in sports! A-in maths..”

“B+ in behaviour and participation? Eren...”

His anger detonated; he snatched the report card, crushing the paper in his hand. “Why do you only care about what I do wrong?! I visit you all the time and I do everything you say! You only exist to make me feel bad! First you get sick and leave us, now this,” Eren lashed out, hurling his grades onto the floor.

Grisha leaped in and trapped his son between his arms. Gritting his teeth, he warned, “I’ve had it. Disrespect your mother one more time and I won’t hold back until you behave.” He pulled Eren onto the chair, which creaked slightly.

Mikasa discreetly walked in, appalled at the sight of Eren’s helpless state.

“How was your meeting with the judge?” Carla inquired.

“Good,” Mikasa glanced down. It wasn’t so good. She had refused to speak more than absolutely necessary after the judge warned her about the impending household inspection.

“Well, if that’s sorted, then I’d like for Grisha to make an announcement.”

Mikasa turned to him with a subtle frown.

“We’re going to begin the adoption process – if you agree, I mean,” he revealed.

Stupefied, the girl’s eyes swung between Carla, then Grisha, then Eren – who rolled his eyes – then Grisha again.

“It will not be easy, as you can see,” Dr. Jaeger clarified, “but I’ll see it through.”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes. Yes, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger.”

Unable to hug her daughter-to-be, Carla enveloped her with a warm smile. The prospect was wonderful and it filled the girl with dread. She knew why she was getting adopted; Carla had to be sure she’d be fine to die a peaceful death.

A nurse politely intruded, “The visitors have to leave in five minutes. Sorry, guys.”

“Eren, let’s go outside,” Mikasa glared daggers at his captor.

Carla interjected, “I need to talk to Eren. You two head on out”

“Let’s go,” Grisha reached for Mikasa’s shoulder. She coldly dodged him, eliciting a giggle from Carla.

The door was shut. Eren’s head hung low in remorse.

“Eren,” she called with a broken voice, “bring that chair here.” He obeyed.

She laid back, worn from the previous few minutes, and began.

“I’m sorry. I should have congratulated you for your hard work before nitpicking. I know we’ve built you up to this moment,” she tried her hardest to establish eye contact.

“I’m sorry too-” _She shouldn’t be apologizing,_ he thought _._

“You’re a good kid. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have kept your promise. We’re keeping ours, you’re getting what you want,” she assured him.

That hurt, the tickets weren’t all he wanted. Did that never come across to her?

“I want you to get better, ma.”

She paused to quell the knot in her throat. “It’s likely I won’t. That’s why-”

“Don’t say that!” Eren’s prayer pierced her heart. She brought a hand to her mouth. “We need you…”

She gulped. “Son, that’s why I push you. So that you don’t need me when I’m gone.”

“I don’t need you! Not like that! Dad’s doing okay, just come back. We’ll let you rest and we’ll do all the chores.” Eren anguished as he watched his mother tear up for the first time. “You’ll recover better when you’re at home,” he assured, tears swimming down his own cheeks.

Cursing her own discomposure, she turned her head away from him. She heard the door click open.

“One more minute,” Carla cracked out. The nurse quickly withdrew. She inhaled, calming herself. “Eren, listen to me. I want you to love everything you do. I love that you love football, play your heart out-” Eren almost interrupted; she knew him too well to let him. “Listen. You need to be disciplined, you can’t cut corners, you can’t spend your time angry at the world– at chores and art class. We reward you so that you know that there’s always something good at the end of the tunnel. Life is so short, Eren, so if football isn’t just an escape and it’s what you want to do, be good and don’t waste that energy of yours on anger.”

Her big green eyes – Eren felt like they were God’s.

The nurse gently knocked twice, insisting they wrap up. Carla hurried to conclude, “Go now. Promise me you’ll fight on, even if life’s unfair.”

Eren stood up and nodded hastily “I promise,” his voice cracked. He walked away slowly, hoping something could extend their time – he just wanted to hug her.

As Eren pulled the door open, the nurse let herself in. His mothers’ ardent stare warded off his urge to insult her. Eren slid out.

“Oh, and Eren,” she halted him, “be nicer to your sister.”

“Okay,” they locked eyes one last time as the boy departed. “See you.”

In the car, Grisha and Mikasa sat in silence. The girl toyed with her beloved scarf while Grisha pondered if she’d ever warm up to him a little more. Eren plopped in, eyes puffy.

“Eren,” Mikasa swept to his side. Grisha started the car and eased it out of the parking space.

Crying felt humiliating. “Mikasa sh-” _No_. He inhaled through his mouth, closing his eyes. “I’m okay.” He dodged her stare.

Moved by the mere acknowledgment of her concern, she leaped towards Eren for a hug. He returned the gesture, too drained of pride and strength to reject her. The embrace lasted until Eren’s heartbeat slowed down and his tears dried out.

The car reached a red light. Something tapped Mikasa’s shoulder: the edge of a brown folder. Intrigued, she reached out to grab it.  Grisha shot Eren a wink before the angry honks outside promptly pulled him back to the steering wheel.

“Openit.” Eren squeezed her arm. Inside the folder were three tickets.

> > SHIGANSHINA SCOUTS V TITANS

> Reiss Bank Cup

> Wednesday, 1 July. Kick off 12:45

> _Seats: 5, 7, 8_

Excitement mixed with the dread that stirred his insides. He could have thrown up.

“Mikasa... We’re right above the players’ tunnel,” Eren declared sibilantly, as if he were out of breath. 

“How are they doing?”

“We’re in third place,” Eren confessed, pursing his lips. Even the Scouts’ most fervent zealots acknowledged they were on a bad – their worst - streak. “But we’ll make it to second after this, and we’ll be there to see it.”

As per usual, Mikasa felt pessimistic.  “ If they don’t, there’s always the Kruger Cup…” 

“Absolutely not!” Eren shouted. Grisha jumped at his tone, losing control of the car briefly. 

“Don’t jinx it,” he berated her through his teeth, “we’ll win this and the Eldia Cup.”

Grisha – father of the year – ordered two big pizzas for dinner. They all needed a break. Eren got drunk (on football) and indulged his family to multiple tirades about how the Scouts were really, really special – like the best, just look at their history. For Mikasa, he included some asides on the basics of the tournament system. Grisha chipped in now and then with minor corrections. Coveting the stage for himself, Eren ignored his contributions, so his father spoke louder, then Eren talked over him until they started to argue. _Like father, like son._

“Dad, okay! But let me talk!”

“I agree with you, for God’s sake! We’re getting the short end of the stick – but you can’t blame it all on big business,” Grisha rubbed his temple, “there’s something off with the club itself. It’s poorly run.”

“If the club were bad, we wouldn’t have national team players like Levi,” Eren rebutted. 

“Levi is so weird, Eren. So weird.”

The room fell silent. Mikasa took the last slice of pizza. Looking at her, Dr. Jaeger grasped the silliness of his behaviour.

“Sorry, Mikasa. You may talk about something you’re interested in.”

“I am interested. I’m listening,” she blankly corrected, “I want to understand, so I just pay attention to what everyone says and I don’t interrupt.” 

_Ouch_ . That was humiliating, and, unlike Eren, her irreverence was impossible to discipline. 

She told the truth, though. Mikasa wasn’t too familiar with professional football, having only retained tidbits from Eren’s past monologues on the topic. This time she felt more involved; be it because he finally made the effort to explain the industry, or because football gave them a window to look away to when the world was being cruel and unjust. 

As the children got ready for bed, grief took hold of them once more. They worried in silence, tucked into their bunk beds.

“I’ll always be here, Eren,” Mikasa broke the silence.

“Mom’s gonna get better.” 

“It’s okay.” She teared up, covering her mouth to silence any cries. 

“You never cry…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just mom wouldn’t like it.” Eren dangled his arm over the edge of the bed for Mikasa to hold onto. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo yeah. I feel like this chapter is wordy, melodramatic, and not my best by any means. also no beta, sorry. its 1am and i hope to make stuff more dynamic next chapter, which will come a bit sooner. 
> 
> i may have paid too much attention to my man greesh here its just rly fun writing dads. greesh's dad drama is gonna be a big deal i guess. 
> 
> here's to trying to make sports interesting when you're someone who doesn't rly like sports and only writes melodrama. im trying to reduce wordiness and fluff.


End file.
